Dear Chance: A Letter to my Hope Baby

Dear Chance,

It is hard to believe that eight years have passed since I held your tiny body in my arms, admired your cute-as-a-button nose, and soaked in every detail of your being. Those early days after saying goodbye were filled with deep sadness, pain, and grief. The tears came heavy and often, hitting with a force so sudden it took my breath away. A tear-stained pillow was my common companion as light gave way to darkness. Slowly, as days passed and time kept inching on, the space between the blows of grief widened ever so slightly. And again, ever so slightly, until eventually joy reclaimed its proper place and I discovered purpose in the pain.

If only you knew, baby boy, how God has used your life, death, and graduation to heaven for His good and glory. Or I suppose you do know, as you see with unveiled eyes the reality of your forevermore. Oh, how I long for that day! Nevertheless, let me share with you some of the ways God has taken a valley of ashes and created a mountain of beauty.

First, my eyes are continually pointed to my eternal home in heaven. Knowing you are there, with Jesus, centers my mind and keeps my eyes focused up instead of on my circumstances. Upward not outward. What a gift this is, little one. This life on earth promises heartache and struggle and it is only a matter of time before grief strikes again. Yet, I now know, that no matter what I face in this life, joy wins. Hope wins because this life is not the end of the story. Death does not have the final say. I knew this before, no doubt, but knowing you reside in heaven somehow cements this truth in my heart even more. This life is not the end! This life is not where hope is found! This truth is my hope, and a firm anchor when my soul grows weary. Your legacy continues, sweet boy. Others that know your story share the same revelations, that your life points them to heaven, to Jesus, and ultimately to face their own pain with an unwavering hope. Because of you, my eyes, and the eyes of many others, are looking up instead of out. What a gift!

Two days after you were born still, we memorialized your life with a graveside service that included both adults and children. God used this short thirty-minute affair to bring heaven alive in the hearts of children of all ages. To this day, even eight years later, I am told these same children tell their parents of the day they went to baby Chance’s funeral, and how they remember watching gobs of blue balloons fill the sky. This allowed for parents to share the hope of heaven with their children, right then and there and for days following. Many drew pictures of your itty-bitty casket, along with flowers, balloons, and the crowd staring up to the sky. God used our family’s pain to produce hope in the heart of His children, big and small. Children who are living on this earth, who attended your service, are no longer scared of death.

I will always long for you while I am living this side of heaven, yet I know you are not longing for me or this life down here. You are not “missing” us, and this truth ironically brings much comfort to my heart. The happiest of days experienced on earth cannot even compare to the joy you are experiencing with Jesus. Because of this, you remind me to keep pressing on through the trials of life because better days are ahead. This promise is my hope. What a gift, indeed.

Love you forever,

Your Mama

Brittnie lives in Sugar Land, Texas and enjoys writing on her blog and other outlets, baking, lingering coffee dates, and soaking in moments with her family. She is a wife to Brandon and a mom to Clara, Camille, and Hope Mom to Baby A (Clara’s twin) and Chance. Psalm 62:1-2 is her go to verse when she needs quick encouragement. She is author of Desert Song, and you can visit with Brittnie at her personal blog, A Joy Renewed, where she shares her faith and family, and encourages her readers to claim joy despite circumstance.

Are you a writer who would like to join the blog team? Learn more and apply here.